sweetheart. I promise not to bite you.” Staring into her eyes, he brushed a finger across her cheek then her bottom lip, letting it linger there, swirling, gently, as if awaiting permission to slither inside her mouth. “Join me in the presidential suite. I want to taste you.” He removed his hand from her face and curved the chair with his arm.
Dawn swallowed. Hard. Her body sunk back in the seat and she stared at him, then down at the bracelet on his left wrist, gold and sparkling in the dim light; with at least a hundred embezzled emerald and diamond stones. Her gaze moved from the intricate bracelet to his long, gallant fingers. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She wondered now what would make a man, so heavenly attractive, find her so appealing. Until that moment, she thought … No, she hadn’t thought. Hadn’t thought about no one but herself. How could she be so foolish? So desperate for a man she hardly knew. This -- whatever this was -- couldn’t go any further. The flaming desire in his eyes convinced her that he was serious.
Dawn cleared her throat and uttered, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I must go.” Abruptly, she stood and raced out of the restaurant. And that was it. He hadn’t begged her to stay. Hadn’t said another word. Just like that, he’d let her walk away.
The irony was that except for feeling like she’d been untrue to a man who barely made her feel beautiful, she wasn’t at all fazed about walking away from one that did. Veritably, as she opened the door to Joe’s office, she felt surprisingly resilient and free. Light as a feather.
She could learn to love herself again. Perhaps even join the local gym and work hard for the body she’d always dreamed of. Three kids over the last five years had been torture on her physically and mentally; working out would make her a better mother, too.
When she returned to the blackjack pit, she was actually smiling. She conferred with the relieving supervisor, then table after table, she verified high denomination chips -- black, purple, orange, yellow and even grey – jotting the count on the long yellow cards. Next she made small talk with patrons -- an occasional 'how are you this evening' and 'if you need anything, just let me know'. Surprisingly, she found herself swaying and bopping to the music from the live band in the bar. She'd give anything to be in there dancing right now. Philip hadn't taken her dancing in years. Eight years to be exact. Nicoli would’ve been too happy to take her, she thought. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him, she'd forget about dancing. And forgetting about Nicoli, as difficult as it might be, she would most certainly try -- she wasn't going to risk her marriage and her kids for a one-night stand. For any man. Or anything. To do that, she would have to tell him face to face.
The need to see him again became inescapable. Dawn picked up the phone in the pit and dialed zero for the operator. She asked for the presidential suite and upon being transferred, it rang…and rang…and rang. And when she hung up, she wondered what she would have said had he’d answered.
Standing next to a high limit blackjack table, she found herself enthralled in thoughts of Nicoli. The way his finger caressed her cheek and the explicit manner in which he'd run that finger across her lips. She wondered now what his lips tasted like. So wet, glistening with sweet champagne.
In the restaurant earlier that evening, he'd looked so handsome, so confident and masculine, sitting across from her at the table. When he’d moved into the seat beside her, he’d taunted and teased like a lover…she’d enjoyed it. And when she looked into his bedroom eyes, she'd been overwhelmed with guilt. It felt so good to be desired
Dawn swallowed. Hard. Her body sunk back in the seat and she stared at him, then down at the bracelet on his left wrist, gold and sparkling in the dim light; with at least a hundred embezzled emerald and diamond stones. Her gaze moved from the intricate bracelet to his long, gallant fingers. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She wondered now what would make a man, so heavenly attractive, find her so appealing. Until that moment, she thought … No, she hadn’t thought. Hadn’t thought about no one but herself. How could she be so foolish? So desperate for a man she hardly knew. This -- whatever this was -- couldn’t go any further. The flaming desire in his eyes convinced her that he was serious.
Dawn cleared her throat and uttered, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I must go.” Abruptly, she stood and raced out of the restaurant. And that was it. He hadn’t begged her to stay. Hadn’t said another word. Just like that, he’d let her walk away.
The irony was that except for feeling like she’d been untrue to a man who barely made her feel beautiful, she wasn’t at all fazed about walking away from one that did. Veritably, as she opened the door to Joe’s office, she felt surprisingly resilient and free. Light as a feather.
She could learn to love herself again. Perhaps even join the local gym and work hard for the body she’d always dreamed of. Three kids over the last five years had been torture on her physically and mentally; working out would make her a better mother, too.
When she returned to the blackjack pit, she was actually smiling. She conferred with the relieving supervisor, then table after table, she verified high denomination chips -- black, purple, orange, yellow and even grey – jotting the count on the long yellow cards. Next she made small talk with patrons -- an occasional 'how are you this evening' and 'if you need anything, just let me know'. Surprisingly, she found herself swaying and bopping to the music from the live band in the bar. She'd give anything to be in there dancing right now. Philip hadn't taken her dancing in years. Eight years to be exact. Nicoli would’ve been too happy to take her, she thought. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him, she'd forget about dancing. And forgetting about Nicoli, as difficult as it might be, she would most certainly try -- she wasn't going to risk her marriage and her kids for a one-night stand. For any man. Or anything. To do that, she would have to tell him face to face.
The need to see him again became inescapable. Dawn picked up the phone in the pit and dialed zero for the operator. She asked for the presidential suite and upon being transferred, it rang…and rang…and rang. And when she hung up, she wondered what she would have said had he’d answered.
Standing next to a high limit blackjack table, she found herself enthralled in thoughts of Nicoli. The way his finger caressed her cheek and the explicit manner in which he'd run that finger across her lips. She wondered now what his lips tasted like. So wet, glistening with sweet champagne.
In the restaurant earlier that evening, he'd looked so handsome, so confident and masculine, sitting across from her at the table. When he’d moved into the seat beside her, he’d taunted and teased like a lover…she’d enjoyed it. And when she looked into his bedroom eyes, she'd been overwhelmed with guilt. It felt so good to be desired
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